#ricoSacto

Monday, August 06, 2018

#FatherOfMine #FatherOfYours #AMotherphqrr

MOTHER’S FATHER OF US ALL

No fear inside the head, nothing at all other than a wisp of sewer wind, flowin’ in me for fun
Popped up and dropped down into the deepest gully grooved into the crevasse, it’s a scheme
Not that you’d ever know if I didn’t mention it, your mama and papa didn’t say a thing, son
You thought you were a special thing, a thing itself, apart from your form of skin and bone.

Gold in the veins of the dead star’s essence, still moving the super cosmic filth ball around
In relative circles, nearly escaping the gravitational pull but then always returning to the hole
Where the star sun generates its essence and effulgence for the sustenance of your empty soul
Playin’ the games and the music until the end is near, then losing the laughter, giggle sound.

A hit or a miss every year, every summer, every fall, winter and spring but always feels good
Alternatives are unacceptable, for instance, disease, death, pain, suffering, nagging, no food
Therefore, logical and rational as I am, I choose to hunt and store food for the duration of me
When I die, no surprise, my jaw’ll gape open like everyone else, eyes wide open but can’t see.

Supreme love for the process of the evolution of Space and Time and the embedded heroes
Ones that nobody will ever forget because the legend is monumental compared to the blows
Everybody takes them, uppercuts, right crosses, jabs, punches in the ribs, kidneys and groin
On the way down for the count, knocked out but happy in the disease, God’s flippin’ a coin.

Programmed to stop and hold up the process at the fork in the road, nobody can ever go back
From Motown to a City of Angels, round back through Dallas, Baton Rouge, NYC and Chi-T
No 800 numbers to dial for help, no 411 on speed dial, just final blinks, a stain out of whack
Like you’ve done since a teenager, super-kid bloomed out of a puddle of mud by the wet sea.

by
r j j stephan, i
c. August 6, 2018 Monday @ 11:11 AM PST
{ written as I drifted into a PLETHORA OF CRISPY SMOKE in the California skies & listenin’ to Uncle Kracker on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/06WM8oLH87M & @Everclear #FatherOfMine #MyDaddyGaveMeAName #ThenHeWalkedAway on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/kkcbxjWG9Mc }

 W.W.A.R.D. ?

Sunday, August 05, 2018

ALPHA-HOOD KNIVES & SUBOORDINATE SWORDS

ALPHA-HOOD KNIVES & SUBORDINATE SWORDS

by

Richard Joseph Stephan · Sunday, August 5, 2018

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Who in the heaven and hell do you think you are, monkey-man? You are hot dust
Nothing more than the remnants of a burned-out, holy host of the powerless rust
No imagination beyond the storage of images within the convoluted immateriality
Our mothers do this to us, all of the mothers on Earth do this to their love deity.

I’m not the one who’s been doubting everything to do with propositional, formal logic
I have recovered my faith in something immaterial, godlike in it’s informal rhetoric
A punk runs this whole show, there’s no doubt about anything at all, the soul soars
Beyond the boundaries of the planets’ revolutionary malfunction, goddess’ of #Oars.

Keep in mind or keep in the body, it’s all one and the same, we gotta keep ‘em separated
For the sake of the great, great grandfathers and grandmothers who surprisingly mated
With the studs who won the battles and wars of adolescence and kept it on the QT, salutes
A savior was nothing but a man who honored the swords and knives turned into the flutes.

Your opinion has no bearing on whether or not I’m right or wrong regarding my high horse
I do ride deep in the saddle with my booted spurs in the stirrups, a galloping, trotting force
If I succeed at persuading nobody but my friends and countrymen of which I have a million
I shall have become the first and only person in my family of immigrants to cancel the Sin.

Original One and an #OriginalSin of #Pride and #Disobedience to your daddy, your maker
Creator of heaven Earth gets perturbed and mixes up the Mother’s chilly air and dirty water
Yesterday’s troubles, tomorrow’s recollections of The Way, a path with a disturbing dilemma
Sun shines, then one foot in front of the other until The Boss’ epic finale, embed it, phuqnA!

by
r j j stephan, i
c. August 5, 2018 Sunday, August 5, Two-Thousand-Eighteen
{ WRITTEN WHILE LISTENIN’ to Papa Roach on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/Hm7vnOC4hoY & #ASL video to pop songs of the last SEVERAL years on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/_Sc4mxQE8Y8 & #BigSmo #MyNeighbors link @ https://youtu.be/DbfOXrQ0N84 }
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
...& with the genie stuck inside the whiskey bottle, the demon asked, "W.W.A.R.D.?"